


Rain clouds

by Illidria



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Scar with what I now excuse as a sunstroke, Unexpected Baby, will maybe be continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria/pseuds/Illidria
Summary: The smells wafting through the streets with the nightly breeze, the light of the moon that reflected from the glazed bricks. Just three more turns and he’d finally be at his own house again, their house, was already wondering if she was there tonight.Almost a year ago, just three days missing for it to have been a full one, Scar and six others had ridden out on a mission. Now he was to return, to the most unexpected of surprises.





	Rain clouds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InkuisitivSkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkuisitivSkins/gifts), [NorthernWall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernWall/gifts).



> Hey guys, you owe this one to Inkuisitivskins and NorthernWall, who are both incredible authors by the way!  
> They suggested a LivScar parental fic and after a thousand drafts and a story-planning session with NorthernWall (thank you so much love :D), this little story is now done^^  
> I may add, if it's wanted, a few more one-shot-chapters to it, should you people too feel the mighty need for more like I did after this one^^
> 
> Happy reading :D

The stones beneath his feet felt like home.

The smells wafting through the streets with the nightly breeze, the light of the moon that reflected from the glazed bricks. Just three more turns and he’d finally be at his own house again, their house, was already wondering if she was there tonight.

Almost a year ago, just three days missing for it to have been a full one, Scar and six others had ridden out on a mission.

It had been planned as a rather long one, was set to take half a year _at least_. They’d vowed to find and return the scrolls of Ishvala, hidden by a brave few during the war, deep in the deserts northern mountains. To reach those alone would take two months was estimated, the terrain difficult and the scrolls hidden well.

And it truly had been as such, their horses often refusing to follow certain paths. The rocks full of jagged edges and steep cliffs, in the midst of which sand that threatened to swallow you loomed. As a team of seven they’d still managed though, through all the hardships, inspecting cave after cave. Scar had once come face to face with an ishvalan lion, another time they’d roused a whole lot of wind scorpions. They were harmless insects mostly, though their bite could be painful.

They’d even laughed afterwards, to shake off the shock of seeing so many at once, throwing back and forth how these animals were named in the regions they all came from. Were listing off names like camel spider and sun spiders, until their oldest member informed them that their true name was solifugae.

Had managed to snap a picture of the lion when seeing it again at a later point in time, traversing the sands within sight, observing them from afar.

And after three months searching the mountains, the summer kicking in and turning the heat of the desert and rocks up to almost unbearable heights, they’d finally found what they were looking for. Hidden deeply in one of the caves a chest had been, wooden and unassuming. Hidden underneath heaps of stones and other dross one would find in the darkness. After a prayer they’d opened the chest, taken out the scrolls and furling them in heavy oil-cloth to keep them safe from the elements.

And not a day later, wanting to get ready for their long travel back home, the heat had a drought set in.

They’d woken up next to the river they called their home for many months now, to find its bed dry and cracked. Readied their horses then, to follow the water the most important thing if they wanted to survive. One of their notepads they left at their former camp though, with instructions as to what they’d done, that they’d found the scrolls.

That they’d try to return as fast as they could.

Which had taken many months, the drought the hot weather evolved into forcing them to follow the ever-retreating water with great urgency, their horses soon as tired as they were. Their shared jokes about camel spiders culminating in them hunting those in the desert, drying the bit of meat they offered to at least have something to eat. Days muddling into one another at this point already, all of them only able to keep sane through the stories they told each other of their families.

Scar hearing stories about sons and daughters and annoying parents in law, about day to day life and the wishes, hopes and problems of his companions. Shared his own stories, talked about Olivier, her family, their times together. The longing always felt by all of them, their biggest wish to return home.

And then they’d happened upon the oasis, so deep in the north of the desert, that Scar wasn’t sure if men ever had set foot on it.

But they’d almost rushed in, their mangled horses greedily drinking the water and eating from the plants, while Scar had climbed a palm tree, throwing down fruit. The few things had seemed like a feast that day, which went on for two weeks.

In the more bearable climate of the Oasis their horses replenished their energy, as did they and it did not take long for one of their group to unroll the scrolls from the cloth and read from them. Their shared prayer giving all of them even more hope, the knowledge that they could make it home, that Ishvala was watching over them.

And when morning came then, they woke up to rain.

Readied the horses, filled up on supplies as best as they could and consulted their maps, deciding on a route home. Rode for more than two months again, blessed by rains and a sun having mercy on them. Their steps winged, their hearts easy, the pull to be home again, to be back with their families strong.

And Scar felt it now too, the third one to split from their group and to arrive home, knowing that there wasn’t any forewarning to his arrival home, that there must’ve been worry about their long absence.

Their oldest member had counted the days after all, telling them when the first one split from their group to ride to his family, that they’d been away only three days shy of a full year.

The door to their house opened easily, wasn’t locked.

Scar hoped that this meant that Olivier was home, the hour late as far as he knew, having met nobody on the streets. He’d not even met someone at the stables outside of the city, his horse deserving the rest, taking off its saddle and reins and letting it run free on the paddock. Someone would look after it come morning and put two and two together.

The door being unlocked if you were home something normal in Ishval, something that was full of tradition. Still, Scar stepped inside carefully, quietly, knowing that Olivier surely wouldn’t be amused upon first seeing him, probably angry for taking so long to come back to her.

He could hardly wait.

Closed the door behind him, switching on the light so he could see and then taking in the spacious living room.

At first he was startled, everything looking different. There were many things he’d never seen before, blankets and clothes stacked on some of the free surfaces, but also on the floor. He saw a small tower of towels, two bottles next to it without a lid. The weirdest thing though a sling swinging from the ceiling, another one just like it to be seen on the back-porch too.

Scar walking further into the room, recognizing some of the furniture now, the sofa still the same as before, only hidden under colourful blankets. The chest of drawers they’d stored their everyday-things in not gone, just having moved to a different location. There were much more pictures on top of it now than before he noticed though, making a step towards it.

With great precision hitting a bottle that lay on the floor with his foot, kicking it and having it noisily shatter on the wall in the process.

Stood frozen in the living room, waiting for what would happen, hoping that he was right in his assumption that Olivier was still living here and had not maybe rented the house out to another person with a couple of kids.

Scar having finally realized that these colourful things here and there were toys, that this weirdly-shaped pillow on the couch was a stuffed animal. Wondered if maybe Olivier’s sister was visiting? As far as he knew Amue had kids, even if he remembered them as already having been in school. Maybe she’d gotten another? That would explain the big pair of sandals right next to the door too, a good few sizes too big to be Olivier’s _or_ his.

A movement in the corner of his eyes catching his attention, the door leading to the bedrooms opening slowly.

The glimmer of her sabre pushing through the crack, forcing him to refrain from any planned movement and stay stock-still, while her body slowly pushed through the crack too, blue eyes catching his.

The sabre clattered to the floor and swiftly she was three steps into the room, stopping just seconds before stepping into the shards of the bottle Scar had accidently kicked.

“Scar!”

A breath he didn’t know he was holding escaping him.

“Olivier!”

Took her in while she stepped over the shards carefully, the shadows under her eyes and her ghastly skin tone. Her hair that was still long but looking unkept and like something was stuck to it at the tips. She looked like she’d taken on weight too, though at the same time as she was rapidly losing it. A stain on her shirt, the loose pants she wore a man’s, one pant-leg rolled up.

Olivier looked shocked to him, going paler with every second it seemed. Scar instantly regretting his sudden entrance, should instead have waited for the morning. He should’ve…His train of thought interrupted suddenly by the appearance of another person coming from the bedroom door.

There stood Miles, bare chested and in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Holding a baby to his chest.

“Hey, what all that noise?” His friend looking around a bit confused, eyes on the broken glass, On Olivier, then spotting him. Miles look of confusion changed to one of surprise. “Scar! When did you…”

Reason left him in a matter of milliseconds.

“This is not what I’m seeing, right? I was gone what? A year? And you already moved on, so quickly?”

Olivier looking at him still wide-eyes, Miles in the back too, a hand on the baby’s blanket-clad back.

“Scar!”

Did not let her get further, the gravity of what he was seeing, what it seemed to mean, hitting him. Stared Olivier in the eyes, his _wife_ , standing there with another man and a child like it was _nothing_.

“You betrayed me like that? Had a child with him? So soon? How long has this been going on, why were you doing any of that? Have you been only _waiting_ for me to leave? _Hoping_ I would never return?”

Felt anger rise, fuelled by the pain he felt, a fury like nothing before. Pointed a finger towards Miles while screaming at him, the only thing keeping him from making use of his balled fists the innocent child in the man’s arms.

“And you Miles? I though of you as a _brother_! How could you do that, go behind your own wife’s back, our friendship? A child Miles, really? Wasn’t it enough for you to steal another man’s wife? You also had to have a child with her? Have you only waited for me to vanish to make your move?”

Was walking up and down now, feeling like a caged animal, again thwarting Olivier’s attempt to interject.

The baby starting to wail, most certainly startled by his screaming, though he could through his pain hardly bring himself to care. Why would they do this to him? He’d wondered once, many years ago, if there’d ever been more between Olivier and Miles. And they’d both calmed him, claiming a deep and longstanding friendship, but nothing more. And now there was a child, while he’d been gone. Had they waited until Olivier thought him dead? But that wouldn’t add up, the average duration of a pregnancy longer he thought to remember. Which made it only worse.

“Olivier, how could you? You knew this was a long mission, knew that I would never leave you just like that! Haven’t they found our notes, do you think I did not miss you, tried my best to get back to you so fast? And now I’m here and there’s a baby! A baby Olivier! You must not even have waited until I was proclaimed missing!”

Olivier still standing in the middle of the living room, only four steps away, shaking like a leave in the wind, speechless. But Scar saw Miles in the back, his face contorting, holding the baby tighter while anger broke free from the man he’d regarded as a brother.

“Do you even hear what you are saying? How little do you trust your wife, trust me? Are you insinuating that I went behind _my own wife’s_ , my own children’s back? Are you out of your mind?”

Did not need long to answer, the baby wailing louder in Miles arms, Scar screaming over it.

“Damn right I’m insinuating that! How else can it be? Babies do not fall from heaven Miles and they do not just appear either!”

And if he’d been less emotional then, thinking clearer, he might’ve seen that Olivier’s face turned from shock and sheer confusion to anger. Not subtly either, but rather with the force that had always accompanied her strong emotions.

Scar opening his mouth to scream more, Miles too, when Olivier cut in-between.

Her voice a bark when she spoke, cutting right through his words, walk and thoughts. The voice of a General having ordered hundreds of men effortlessly at the same time, that managed to turn enemy forces to her own with its pressure.

“You two will now shut _the fuck up_!”

Olivier stepping up to him, each word spoken low and dangerous, accentuated with a poke to his chest, forcing him backwards.

“What do you even _think_ you are doing screaming bullshit like this? Where is your faith in me, your trust?”

His back at the wall now, her face right in front of him. Scar feeling like he was seeing her clearly for the first time now, the anger pulling her mouth into a thin line, the hurt in her big blue eyes visible. The lines etched into her face, the rings under her eyes together showing him how she had to be much too tired for this kind of fight.

“What do you think how it felt to learn that I’m pregnant just a month after you left on your mission? How _scared_ I was, but also happy? I could hardly wait for you to return, to surprise you!”

Her voice got smaller somehow, less forceful. And Scar so close simply saw that there was a wetness to her eyes now. Yet, her voice remained cold.

“And you don’t come back, week after week! I was so scared that something had happened, that you were laying somewhere in the sand, dead and gone because the drought took your life, or a scorpion, or anything else!”

The tears running silently down her face while she spoke, the baby still wailing, Miles tries to calm the child seemingly futile.

“And all the while some hags are telling me that you left me at a _convenient time_ and others how you’ve maybe _known_ and _legged it_. And I had the little one all alone, without you, without anybody but an ishvalan speaking midwife by my side!”

Her voice breaking slowly, though she talked on, insistent pocking having changed to her fist, again and again thumping against his chest.

“And then I _finally_ had him _, your_ son! And he is the most beautiful thing in the world and so many people have come to help us because you _couldn’t_ be there! And then you say that they betrayed you, while I only feared that you’d never come back, I…”

Her voice taken over by a sob then, her heaving loud in the room in which the other only sound the fussy baby was. And with a start she walked over to Miles then, taking the screaming baby from his arms.

Her face tear-streaked, her shoulders slumped, the little one held securely.

“I can’t take this.”

And out she was with a set of swift movements, the door to their back-porch thrown open and the shards of glass crunching underneath her feet once.

Miles and him just standing there for many long moments, the silence thick while Scar found it hard to breathe.

“Follow me!”

Miles just turning around, walking towards the bedrooms without another word.

And Scar followed, his mind empty for the time-being, the only thought playing in a continuous loop that he fucked up. Olivier had cried, his Olivier, who _never_ cried. She’d gone through this pregnancy alone, had raised their baby alone and he’d…

“This is where I sleep.”

Stood next to Miles in the smaller of the two guest-bedrooms of the house, on one side of the bed the sheets tangled. Clothes sitting on a small bag on the side, folded neatly, clearly identifiable as Miles.

“Never would I touch her like you think, never would she let herself be touched like that from me. I can’t even look when she nurses the boy! I lover her like an older sister, I thought you knew that.”

Miles voice quiet, but with force, looking him straight in the eye and indicating for him to follow once more.

Leading Scar into his own master-bedroom, the one he’d for years had only shared with Olivier. Here too only one side of the bed looked used, the other full of stacks of freshly washed clothes and towels. A baby cot on wheels, open to one side, now in the room too. A traditional one, so you could roll it to the bed and link it to the side the parent was sleeping on. It was an utterly ishvalan thing, supposed to make the nightly care easier for the mother.

“I would ask you what you were thinking, but it was so clear that you weren’t.”

Miles voice louder now, even, if disappointed. Scar spotting a picture of Olivier and him on the nightstand, spotted more stuffed animals, rags and blankets. Good luck charms, colourful pearls on a string, strung up from the ceiling. A lot of them, the tradition that you gifted them to a new baby, the more strings given the more beloved the child. He’d never seen so many before.

“And I can understand you somewhat, how it must’ve looked to you, really. But why didn’t you let her explain it to you? She’s so exhausted, even more so as the anniversary of your mission-start was nearing!”

Scar felt that his hands were shaking, that his heart was beating out of his chest and his stomach had formed a gnawing pit.

“I don’t care if you believe me, or hate me, or anything, really. But Olivier waited all this time for you to return, anxiously. She loves you and _only_ you, except for your little boy.”

_He had a son._

Only know that particular information was sinking into his mind and his hands began to shake even stronger.

He’d only been in the same room as his son for several minutes and had already screamed loudly, made his baby cry. He’d screamed at his own wife, the mother of his child, had accused her of horrible things. And she’d only…

“Miles”, took a deep breath before speaking on, looking into the others eyes. This man he’d thought of as a brother, who’d helped his wife during what must’ve been the toughest she had to go through. “Miles, is there any chance for me to right things?”

“Go after them and find out.”

Was send towards the door with a strong gesture from his true friend and only heard the heavy sigh when turning around to step outside.

The nightly air was cool and without second thought his feet took him where he thought she’d have gone, their place not a secret one, but beloved. Ran through winding streets and past yards, the cold air burning his lungs and his heart beating out of his chest.

He’d caused her nothing but pain. Had not returned when he was set to, making her go through the pregnancy alone, the birth. Could hardly imagine how scary it must’ve been to be all alone, safe for the midwife. And then he’d forced her to care for their child alone, to shoulder all the decisions and responsibility.

And just when he finally came back, he’d made things worse, jumping to conclusions.

“I should’ve found you a father that can do math.”

Walked slowly now, his steps loud by the rivers edge, Olivier’s back straight on the bench they’d so often looked at the water from.

“Nine plus three, shouldn’t be too hard, right? Instead I found you a good for nothing father.”

Stepped closer slowly, though she did not look up. Only talked to the baby in her arms, which was babbling back at her.

Scar sat down on the bench, next to them, watching, listening.

“Finally gets home after such a long time, after what must’ve been so many hardships, and instead of being happy to see us he starts screaming. Gets all mad because the time apart maybe got to his head, or because he slept during sex-ed. Maybe it was all just a bit much to come home to, I don’t know.”

Olivier’s fingers dancing over the boy’s tummy, grasped at, a string of baby noises following. Her smile beautiful, soft, warm, the tear-streaks on her face dry.

Scar barely heard his own voice.

“Maybe it has truly been a bit much. The travel so long, the sun beating down, it must’ve gotten to my good for nothing head.”

She did not look at him, only at their boy.

“Hear that, the heat gave him bad ideas. What do we say to that?”

A string of noises following, the little boy wiggling, trying to turn his heads towards him.

Olivier smirked.

“Yeah, you’re right. You want to take a look at your good for nothing father, don’t you?”

And just like that she leaned over, handed over their son to him. Adjusted his hold with featherlight touches and a warm smile, while the little boy in his arms grasped at him now too, wiggling and smiling.

Scar could barely breath, felt like his heart had swelled to unbearable size in a matter of seconds.

The boy in his arms was beautiful, soft and shiny dark skin, ten fingers and ten toes. A button nose, a smile that looked like that of his mother. A head full of hair, pale locks more like hers in colour than his. His son’s movements strong, the sounds he made, the hands reaching for him utterly perfect. The clever eyes following him shaped like hers, but a dark grey, red at the edges.

Scar felt tears fall from his eyes, one after another, not willing to stop them.

This was their son, the most perfect creature he’d ever lain eyes on. His skin dark like his fathers and hair like that of his mother. Would have the red eyes of him and smile as softly as her. Would have a bright future ahead of him, whatever the price.

Felt Olivier lean onto his shoulder, eyes on their boy, her voice soft.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

And he knew, their communication through unsaid words suddenly, _finally_ , back, that she not only meant going on a too-long mission with that. But also his words spoken without thought, the way his faith in his friends, in her, had momentarily abandoned him. The hidden threat that she would not hesitate, should something like that ever happen again.

Turned to her, though he found it almost impossible to tear his eyes away from his son, his voice croaky with tears.

“I promise, by Ishvala, by my son and by my incredible wife.”

Her lips soft on his, her face warm and her hands on his cheeks taking away the tears. His question when their kiss broke, their eyes trained again on their son, quiet in the night.

“What’s his name?”

She leaned onto him more, their son’s movements growing tired, his eyes slowly falling shut.

“Mazin. I found it in one of the books and thought that it was beautiful. Only when they’d chanted it during the naming ceremony in the house of prayer for a week and rain finally started to fall again one of the old ladies told me what it meant.”

He breathed in and out, feeling tears sting his eyes again, though they did not fall this time.

“ _Rain clouds_.”

Felt Olivier nod against his shoulder, let sink in what had happened, the knowledge that he had a son, was a father. Was finally home again. Olivier shivering against him, prompting his next words.

“You must be _so_ exhausted, we should go home.”

And Scar felt too anxious to carry Mazin the whole way, handed him over to Olivier again, seeing the way she cradled him, his heart feeling full. Saw her wince when she got up though, the blood underneath her left foot, feeling guilty.

“If I’d not shattered the bottle, none of this would’ve happened.”

Could not keep the bitterness at his own ineptitude, his unnecessarily flaring temper out of his voice. Yet, he moved to simply take Olivier in his arms, not caring for her protest.

Her voice soon devoid of anger again, her struggle stopping.

“There’s little point in wanting to change the past. We should rather focus on the now, our future together.”

Kissed her forehead, the one place he could reach like that, their house already so very close. The lights on, Miles to be seen walking back and forth, apparently trying to clean up.

“You are right my love.”

Sat Olivier down on the low couch, grabbed the first aid kit and softly pulled on the shard, proud when his wife did not wince. Cleaned and bound the wound, their chatter soft, Miles seemingly having vanished.

“I have to apologize properly in the morning.”

Olivier only nodding when she handed him their child, getting up slowly. Stood a bit awkwardly next to her, the responsibility sinking in, the fear that he could drop Mazin nagging at him. A soft hand touching his face then, pulling him back to her.

“Yes, you have to. But only then. Now I want to go to bed, to wake up next to my child and husband again.”

And they did just that, clothes put away as space was made for him on the bed, Mazin finding his place in his crib, while Olivier lay down closest to their son. Scar behind her, winding his arms around her, looking at the two people he loved the most in this world.

Both so incredibly beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. The goal of it is to make commenting easier for readers and to increase the feedback writers get. As such, I invite you to leave:
> 
> _Short comments_   
>  _Long comments_   
>  _Questions_   
>  _Constructive criticism_   
>  _Reader-reader interaction_   
>  _extra-kudos as <3_
> 
> I cherish all comments, weather they be long or short, even only one word makes me squeal with happiness after all. And if you’re seeing this fic ten years after I published it, don’t worry: Old or new, I’ll still love what you left me to read <3 I answer to all comment btw, though it sometimes takes me a day or two. Should you not want me to answer, just write _whisper_ in front of it.  
>  I thank you for reading this fic of mine through to the end. As I said, I appreciate all comments and kudos and should you want to get into direct contact with me [this is my tumblr](http://illidria.tumblr.com/). There you can get into discussions with me, or even send in wish-fics.  
> Happy reading and thank you <3


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